At Last You Smiled
by Quaxicoffelees
Summary: To Ivan, snow had meant death and emptiness and loneliness. Yet here, with Matthew, it was peace and love and freedom. Russia/Canada


**Oh boy, my first Hetalia fanfic. I only just started in to APH, having finally found out about it in the middle of July or so… I'd seen pictures of it every now and then, and heard little whispers about nations as anime and all, but never knew what it was called! But now I do, and it has become my latest obsession. So anywho, here's a short bit on Russia and Canada, my third and fourth favorite characters [my sister and I have a total penchant for Lithuania and Poland]. It was inspired by this one fic, ---, James Joyce's Ulysses, and a youtube video, --- [though not in this order]; the latter made my sister cry because she thought it was so heartbreaking, which is expressed through an out-of-character moment in Russia… I do apologize for that, but I couldn't help myself.**

**I do not own Hetalia, in case that needs to be said. Please be kind! I do hope that it is enjoyable.**

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Sharp purple orbs pierced through the blackness, gazing with a burning intensity at the silent world around him. He was alone, alone in the darkness that was swallowing him up into emptiness. He gazed up into the vacant sky that was nothing, that consumed everything. Yet stars glimmered brightly, pinpricks of light pulsing in the background. They strained to spread their radiance, luminous in the endless outstretch of night that continued on forever throughout the galaxy. Such small things, little incandescent wisps glowing with determined perseverance in the interweaving dark blanket of space.

The stars were embers of hope, guiding lights in the lonely universe, radiant souls screaming to each other in the vacant cosmos. It was theorized that there were as many stars in all of creation as life forms in existence. If that were true, then it was a reasonable metaphor that each star represented a person. Crying out for someone, something, always enduringly shining as brightly as they could, expanding until they were so far gone that they shrunk away into nonexistence.

What a terrible fate, to live and die alone.

He had tried so very hard to protect them, to keep them safe. Bloody wars had been fought on his nations soil, dark red soaked up into the ground. His people had martyred themselves, had died valiantly, all for nothing. His mind conjured up the memories seared behind his eyelids: weapons shattered into twisted pieces of molten metal, entire generations of bright young officers obliterated, torn to shreds by the merciless violence, decaying corpses piled into mountains, people collapsing, millions of lives perishing from sudden disintegration, wrenched into oblivion – only a handful of survivors left to suffer through the painful calamity, the heartbreaking cries of loved ones screaming in terror echoing in their minds.

His feet carried him to the large, desolate mansion, slowly rotting away. He had inadvertently caged them, clipping their wings and hiding them from the world, his possessive nature smothering the ones he loved until the only way for them to survive was to let them fly away. He had abused their trust, their love, and now – now he was alone.

Ivan faltered, eyes widening in surprise as he entered his manor, mouth slack as it fell open. His mind had wandered, too caught up in the whirlwind of agonizing memories to think of the blonde nation who was curled up on his couch, an arm full of bright golden flowers resting against him. He had deserted the young Canadian today, abandoning their usual weekly game of hockey to mourn the loss of his brethren so long ago.

"Hn? Ivan – I was waiting for you!" the young man muttered sleepily, smiling as he sat up straight and presented his gift to the Russian. The sunflowers seemed to glow brightly in his hands, beckoning outwards with their warmth. He had known the importance of today, and had come out of concern to comfort his friend.

The waves of sorrow rolled off the man as a tide, his pale hands clutching at the golden fabric of the ribbon delicately holding the unbending stalks together. He buried his face into the crook of his neck, crying an anguished lamentation of his misery. Matthew let him cling, let him mourn, waiting for the storm that threatened to tear the battered man apart to pass as all storms do. The endless rain of his tears soaked his collar, a wet stain that Matthew paid no mind to – it would dry as the clouds of regret faded, as the raging tempest slithered into the depths of memory.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Matthew gazed at the world around him, beaming contentedly as he tugged on the taller nations hand, pulling him into the soft fluffy drifts of the tranquil woodland. It was in places like the blanketed forest of white that time stopped as the snow fluttered lightly to the ground, the hushed quiet pressing in as if it were the only force in the world.

To Ivan, snow had meant death and emptiness and loneliness.

Yet here, with Matthew, it was peace and love and freedom.

Carefree and a-bounding, Matthew sprung forward and flung himself into one of the sloping snow banks. Ivan stopped, gaping dumbfounded for a moment of shock. There was no movement – had the younger nation toppled over and killed himself? The Russian picked up his feet, moving with fierce determination to the still body sprawled across the pristine white carpeting of the forest floor. Eyes wide in panic, Ivan peered forward.

A pale hand shot out, grasping the long scarf dangling in front of him. With a laugh, the Canadian tugged the taller nation into the snow, amused at the uncharacteristic flailing as Ivan lurched forward and landed beside him. The blonde sighed with a smile, falling backward contentedly and gazing up at the gray slate of sky, enjoying the snowflakes twirling around them.

"Snowflakes are uniquely individual, da?" the Russian switched over, reaching his left hand up into the air. "They are hard crystals, yet they are gentle and melt away. None are like any other. Matvei is like a snow flake."

"Then you are a snowball," the Canadian joked, having decided long ago to roll with the strange jumps in metaphors. "With many snowflakes, and many sides of personality – it takes a lot longer to melt away all those layers!"

Ivan smiled, a warmth of elation sparking inside of him as Matthew's hand entwined with his own.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Matthew writhed under the cold, narrow fingers that lightly caressed the smooth skin underneath his shirt, dancing up and down his sides.

"Become one with me," Ivan whispered into his ear. The blonde squirmed.

"But I can't. My country – "

"Nyet," the taller nation interrupted in that same syrupy sweet tone, laden thick with desire. "No nations, no politics. No Canada, no Russia. Just Matthew and Ivan. Just you and me."

Matthew's breath hitched, the ghosting touches drifting to a stop. Large watery eyes gazed through clear lenses into shocking lavender orbs. It was everything he had ever wished for, all that he had dreamed of – to be noticed, to be wanted. To be loved like any other person in the world.

He felt a wave of tears rise in a sudden surge of happiness, burning up inside of him.

"What is wrong?" Ivan started in alarm, drawing his hand up to brush away tiny streams cascading down the his pale cheeks. On impulse, the blonde reached up and pulled him into a heated kiss.

"Matvei?" was the first confused reply when the two gasped for air. Only one word ran through the younger mans mind, repeating itself like a fervent prayer.

"Yes, yes, yes…"


End file.
